


Straight From The Source

by HPTrio



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-17
Updated: 2012-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPTrio/pseuds/HPTrio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes there is only one way to cure a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight From The Source

**Author's Note:**

> If this particular pairing is not your personal cup of tea, please keep checking under my user name. I plan to archive all my work here and, while everything I've written is in the Harry Potter fandom, I write several different pairings; het, slash and multi.

Fred Weasley stepped out of the fireplace into the darkened flat, followed closely by his twin brother, George. He held his wand aloft and whispered "Lumos," bathing the room in dim light. 

"So ..." asked George. "Just how _are_ we going to find it?" 

"Simple, brother dear. You don’t think Harry or Ron would have one, do you?" 

"Oh, right then. _Accio dildo_ ," George enunciated distinctly as he flourished the wand in his right hand. He held his left up to catch, but then realized there was more than one object zooming towards him. He caught the first, and Fred made a dive for the second, catching it just before it hit the wall behind George.

“You might know Hermione couldn’t be satisfied with just one style. She’d have to try them all out to see which one was best,” George grumbled. “So, which one do we do, or do we do them both?”

Fred considered the object in his hands. It was shaped a bit like a banana, but slightly more slender and had ridges running lengthwise along the shaft. There was a flat base at one end, with a button on the side and when Fred pushed it, the object began to hum softly and vibrate in his hands – clearly a Muggle device. He took the other one from George and inspected it closely. It was certainly the more realistic of the two, perfectly moulded into the shape of a penis, with its base in the shape of a pair of rather full testicles. 

“This one, I think, George,” said Fred, waggling the cock-shaped object in his hand.

“But what if Hermione uses the other one more?” asked George. “Why don’t we do them both?”

“It’s been five years that we know of, so a little longer won’t kill him. But pulling the same prank on Hermione twice might get both of us killed. She’s probably going to hex our bollocks off as it is, even if she does thank us in the end. And I don't even want to think about what would happen to us if Hermione tells Mum!” 

Ten minutes later, the twins had worked their magic on the phallic object and sent both of the naughty toys zooming back toward wherever they’d been hidden. They felt a wee bit guilty about targeting Hermione with their deception, but it was the only way to make it work, so all that remained was to wait for the announcement that Hermione and their little brother were finally together, then they could own up to their trickery and apologize – if she hadn’t already killed them by then.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was past midnight when the fireplace flared to life once again, with Hermione stepping gracefully into the sitting room of the flat she shared with her two best friends. Ron followed closely behind, lumbering out and almost trodding on Hermione’s foot. Then Harry, poor sod, tumbled out after Ron, covered in soot and sputtering as he knocked his friend to the ground and landed on top of him. Apparently he never would get the hang of magical transportation, particularly not if he’d been drinking any at all.

Ron was quite thankful that his moan of enjoyment at having Harry’s full weight resting on top of him would be interpreted as a groan of annoyance at having the wind knocked out of him.

“Sorry, mate,” mumbled Harry as he pushed himself to his feet and began to brush the soot off his dress robes. 

“S’okay,” Ron squeaked, then hastily excused himself, muttering that it was late and he was going to bed. He had to get out of the room before anyone noticed the bulge in his trousers that rose quickly when Harry pressed their groins together as he pushed himself up. No one knew Ron fancied blokes – or rather that he fancied Harry in particular, and this was certainly not how he planned on outing himself.

Once he was safely in his room with the door closed and a locking spell in place, he threw off his dress robes, kicked out of his trousers and sighed in relief when the scratchy wool was no longer pinching his swollen cock. He toed off his shoes and padded over to the dresser in his socks to rummage in the bottom drawer, finally retrieving the object he sought and caressing it lovingly.

He’d been petrified after sending off the owl order. His worst fear had been that Harry or Hermione might get to the post before him and that the package might arrive no more discreetly wrapped than the broomstick McGonagall had sent Harry in first year after he’d made the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

_How in the name of Merlin’s balls would Ron have explained why he was ordering a near life-like model of Harry’s cock and balls?_

He’d been shocked when he saw it in the catalogue. Not that it actually was a model of Harry’s tackle. It was actually a rather impressive bit of magic; magic that had cost him a fair few Galleons. It was a special order item that allowed a customer to purchase a custom-made replica of the more private bits of their favorite witch or wizard, provided they could pay the asking price and supply a few hairs from the person they wanted to duplicate. It apparently used a variation of Polyjuice potion in the casting of the object, and the real beauty was that only the customer knew whose bits he or she had purchased. Getting the hairs had been easy, but Ron had saved for weeks to come up with the Galleons for his new toy.

Ron stripped out of the rest of his clothes and crawled onto his bed, then remembered he needed lube and got up to check his coat pockets for the little pot he’d picked up in Diagon Alley earlier that day.

At first Ron just settled back against his pillows, making himself comfortable and remembering the feel of Harry’s weight resting on him. It was a familiar feeling in that he often found himself pinned to the floor by Harry’s weight, or vice versa, during combat training at the Auror academy, but sadly it was unlikely a feeling he’d ever experience in any more intimate fashion. He ran his hands over the coarse ginger hairs on his chest and pinched at a nipple as he mentally conjured images of Harry in varying stages of undress. There were distinct advantages to growing up in boarding school and then playing Quidditch and studying to be an Auror with the object of your every wanking fantasy. At least he had visuals.

Ron opened the little jar of lube and scooped some onto his fingers, then massaged it up and down the length of his shaft. He gripped himself near the base and set a rhythm of long, slow strokes, imagining Harry’s hand on him while they kissed. After several minutes, when Ron began to feel the heat building in his balls, he released himself and scooped up a bit more lube on his fingertips. He pulled his knees up toward his chest with his thighs apart and reached between them, circling his finger around the tight little ring of muscle surrounding his hole. He made a rather undignified sound, something between a hiss and a moan, as he slipped a finger inside and began to pump it slowly in and out of himself. As he started to feel himself relax, he pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them to loosen and stretch the muscle. He closed his eyes and pictured Harry kneeling between his thighs with his fingers pressed into him.

Almost reluctantly, Ron slipped his fingers free and, using his other hand, collected more lube to slather onto the toy cock, his own personal Harry. That was where everything went tits up.

Ron got onto his knees and reached between his legs, positioning his phallic friend at his entrance, giving a little push so the head would pop through, and he moaned at the feel of Harry stretching him. Well, at least he could pretend it was really Harry. He sucked in a breath and tried to relax as completely as possible so he could push the shaft the rest of the way inside. He grimaced slightly from the sting; Harry’s cock was not exactly proportional to the rest of his body and Ron always needed a moment to adjust.

Once the toy was fully inside him, Ron gripped it as tightly as possible with the muscles in his arse to keep it from slipping out and rolled rather awkwardly onto his back. He supposed using one of these things must be a little easier for birds since they had an opening within easier reach, and decided if he hadn’t been a wizard, it would have been way too much work to even try. He picked up his wand and cast an animation charm, causing the device to fuck him with long, slow strokes, in and out. Ron moaned at the sensation of being filled and wrapped a hand around his weeping cock.

He tried to keep it slow because he wanted to prolong the fantasy as long as possible. He imagined Harry fucking him for the first time, their eyes locked on each other as they both felt the tingle of satisfying a need. After several minutes of the tantalizingly slow torture, Ron couldn’t take any more. His balls were full to bursting and he needed relief. He grabbed his wand and cast an acceleration charm, causing the shaft to thrust into his body harder, and he shifted his hips so that almost every stroke nudged his prostate. It was heaven! And it was hell, because he still hadn’t found his release. He stroked his own shaft harder, still concentrating on the mental picture of Harry above him, practically pounding him into the mattress – but nothing happened.

Ron was starting to feel a bit of panic; it had never taken him so long to come before, particularly not with his Harry toy battering his prostate. But it felt _so good_ and he was _so close _. Only after awhile, it started to be too much. He slipped the object out of himself just about the time the pounding started on his bedroom door.__

“Ron! Are you okay?” came Hermione’s voice, the alarm quite evident.

“Hey, mate? You having a bad dream?” yelled Harry.

Bugger! Ron hadn’t realized he’d gotten so loud.

“No, fine. Just a sec,” Ron stalled as he shoved the dildo under his pillow and covered himself with his duvet. He flicked his wand to release the locking spell on the door, and let his friends into the room. Hermione launched herself at the bed and threw her arms around his neck, her bushy hair blocking his view as Harry sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose, with a slight smirk on his face.

“Let the man breathe, Hermione,” chuckled Harry, and she reluctantly detached herself from Ron’s neck, instantly bombarding him with questions about what was wrong, and why he was moaning. She’d offered him everything from a Cheering Charm to a Dreamless Sleep Potion before he could get a word in edgewise.

Ron latched onto Harry’s excuse, claiming it was just a strange dream; not a nightmare really, but a dream that Peeves had been chasing him and he’d stubbed his toe when the staircases moved. Harry and Hermione both looked unconvinced, but at Ron’s insistence, they both went back to their own beds, leaving Ron to deal with his not so little problem on his own.

Ron peeled back the duvet and stared at his lap, his erection not having dissipated even the slightest bit at the near miss of almost being caught by his friends. In fact, his cock was still throbbing with an almost painful need to come, and that need seemed to increase with every passing second.

He tried touching himself again, and _Oh, Merlin_ it felt good, but he was no closer to coming and the need to do so was reaching a frightening level. He sank back against his pillow, only then remembering he’d shoved his toy under there just before Harry and Hermione came in.

He picked up his wand and shoved his hand under the pillow to retrieve the toy so he could cast a proper cleaning spell on it before hiding it away again, but he froze when he looked at it. Red writing was glowing along the length of the shaft and he had to rotate it in his hand to read it all.

_“Hermione, Luv, we’re really sorry, but we did this for your own good. Our ickle Ronnikins is just too shy to make the first move, but everyone knows you’ve wanted each other since fourth year. So we took the liberty of helping things along and saturated your toy with a lust-enhancing potion. We know this will be embarrassing, and you can hex us later, but that need you’re feeling right now can only be satisfied by pure semen, applied internally, straight from the source. If you wait, it will only get worse. Love, Gred and Forge”_

Ron read the note again, then swore to himself, squirming on his bed from the need that was steadily intensifying. Not only was his cock throbbing, but he could feel the muscles inside his arse twitch; he recognized the sensation as a desire to be filled. He considered the toy, but the red letters glaring at him only served to remind him of the twins' words – _pure semen, applied internally, straight from the source._

He was fucked in every possible way except the one that counted right now. What in the name of hell was he going to do?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

An hour passed with no relief, even though Ron had stroked himself until he felt like his wrist would break. He'd even resorted to lubing up the dildo and spelling it to batter his prostate in hopes it would tip him over the edge. Nothing helped, and even though he felt so close to orgasm he thought he'd explode at any second, he knew he was no closer to feeling relief than he'd been when Harry and Hermione had knocked at his door.

 _Pure semen, applied internally, straight from the source._

He considered fire calling the twins, hexing one and demanding that the other cure him, but the idea of sex with one of his brothers was just too revolting. Not to mention how bad they'd take the mickey when they found out he owned the device they'd tampered with and not Hermione. 

Damn! That meant he couldn't even hex them for it later.

Ron racked his brain for some other solution. There had been rumors about several blokes at school, but Ron couldn't think of a single one whom he was sure was gay, and he wasn't desperate enough yet to go to Goldstein, or one of the Creevy brothers even if he was sure they were gay.

He considered St. Mungos. After all, spell damage was one of their specialties, but he couldn't think of any way to explain his predicament without telling them how he got cursed, and he didn't fancy the embarrassment of explaining that to a total stranger, or worse, to someone he knew from school who'd gone into Healing.

He thought about asking Hermione for help because she was brilliant at working out solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems, but that would entail admitting more to her than he was ready for her to know, and revealing more of himself than he particularly wanted her to see. And that was not even considering how much it would embarrass her to know the curse had been meant for her. Besides, she'd probably just tell him to ask Harry to help him out, and Ron would prefer his best mate not know he was bent.

Damn his brothers! 

Brothers. Well, there was Bill. He was a professional curse breaker, after all. It would be embarrassing, certainly, but Bill was a pretty cool bloke. Sure, he'd take the mickey some, but he wouldn't do it in front of anyone else, and he wouldn't keep doing it every time Ron saw him. 

Yes, Bill was probably his best bet at this point. He got out of bed and rummaged in his drawer for his loosest pair of boxer shorts. He pulled them on, grimacing as the fabric drug across the sensitive flesh along his shaft. Damn Fred and George! He walked splay-legged to the door, cracking it open and listening intently for any sound that Harry or Hermione might still be up. Once he was satisfied the flat was silent, he opened it farther and peered cautiously into the hall. 

Ron had to bite his lip to keep from groaning as he made his way into the parlour and crossed to the fireplace. The friction of his thighs rubbing against his balls felt so good, but at the same time, it just increased his painful need to come. He stumbled over Harry's trainers as he made his way around the end of the sofa, and swore under his breath as he limped toward the hearth. He grabbed the pot of Floo powder off the mantle and gingerly got down on his knees. He threw the powder into the flames and stuck his head inside, calling out "Shell Cottage" as clearly and as quietly as he could so he wouldn't wake his flatmates. The room on the other end was dark, but that was no surprise considering the late hour.

"Bill?" Ron called, this time fairly loudly because he assumed his brother would be sleeping. He waited a few seconds and tried again, still with no response. "Damn," he swore, pulling his head out of the fire.

He got another handful of Floo powder and tried again, this time stepping into the flames and exiting into his brother's kitchen. He whispered "Lumos" to light the tip of his wand and made his way toward his brother's bedroom. He dreaded going in to wake him. Fleur in a nightgown was not something he needed to see in his condition. On the other hand, Fleur in a nightgown might be exactly what he needed to see in his condition. Just because he thought of Harry when he wanked didn't mean he was immune to the female form, and he had been affected by the Veela in her ever since he’d first seen her at Hogwarts.

He stopped at the bedroom door and peered cautiously into the room, not wanting to get hexed if Bill heard him and thought there was an intruder. He raised his arm, bathing the room in soft wandlight.

The bed was neatly made and completely empty!

Where the hell were they?

Ron waddled back toward the kitchen and Flooed home, not really paying much attention as he stumbled into the room. He'd only taken three steps when he collided with something solid, and he howled in pain when his sensitive prick was the first bit to make contact. His heart sank at the sound of Harry's voice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Illuminate," said Harry, causing every light in the parlour to come on at once. Ron's face flamed as Harry looked down; Ron could tell the second Harry realized the thing prodding him in the stomach was his best mate's swollen cock. 

"Bloody hell, Ron! Where have you been that you're coming home in your pants?" 

"Nowhere. It doesn't matter," Ron stuttered, then bolted for his room.

Harry pushed his way through the bedroom door faster than Ron could shut it and cast a locking spell. Ron threw himself face down on the bed, whimpering a bit when his erection hit the mattress, and he told Harry to go away.

"Something's not right here, Ron," Harry said carefully, "and I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what it is."

"S'nothing, Harry, really," Ron lied.

"Ron . . ."

"Just a joke – the twins," Ron said, hoping Harry would be satisfied and go away.

"You were with them? What did they do to you?"

"No, I wasn't with them, they put something on a possession of mine so the joke would activate when I used it, and I came home in my pants because I left that way!" Ron didn’t really mean to snap at Harry, but his embarrassment was starting to turn to annoyance. "It fucking hurt too much to put anything else on, so please just go away, Harry."

"But Ron," Harry began, clearly searching for the right words. "I – you were -- umm, well – you were hard when you came through the Floo. That's a bit unusual, mate."

"Yeah, well, it was a lust potion, and it makes it so I can't come." Ron practically spit the words at Harry. His cock hurt, his balls ached and he was tired of all the questions that he knew he didn’t want to answer.

"What? That's mad!" Harry cried. The lights flickered and Ron’s hair stood up a bit from the static energy Harry was giving off. Harry never was good at controlling his magic when he got angry. "I’ll make them take it off. Just give me five minutes, Ron."

"NO!" Ron was beginning to panic for sure then, because Harry just couldn't go to the twins. They'd know what Ron had been doing, and they'd tell Harry. "There's not an antidote for this, it just has to wear off." Ron bit his lip, waiting anxiously to see if Harry would believe him.

"Ron, how long have you been that way?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I don't know," Ron mumbled. "Since about midnight I guess – whenever it was that we got home."

"Ron, that's been nearly three hours! You can't stay that way. It's dangerous!"

"Well, it's not like I haven't tried to do something about it, Harry," Ron said sarcastically – like Harry hadn’t already worked out that Ron had been wanking when he came into Ron’s room earlier with Hermione. 

"St. Mungo’s, then," Harry said. "I'll take you so you ..."

"No, Harry. I'm not going there," Ron interrupted him.

"But Ron, you can't stay like that. There's this advert on telly selling some pill you take if you can't get it up ..."

Again, Ron interrupted. "That’s not exactly my problem, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the advert says you should seek medical attention for an erection lasting more than four hours. It's dangerous to stay like that too long."

"I'm not going, Harry. I'm just going to have to wait it out." 

"I can't believe the twins would pull a stunt like this! This is serious, Ron. I read a little about it. You could get a blood clot, or even gangrene, and if that happens, well – stuff gets amputated! How could they do something like this to their own brother?" The flower vase on the mantle shattered.

"It was an accident, Harry. It wasn't actually meant for me."

"Well, who the fuck was it meant for then?"

"They meant it for Hermione."

"What?" A Butterbeer bottle on the coffee table broke and the amber liquid inside began to drip onto the rug. "But I thought you said they put the potion on something that belonged to you."

"They did," Ron replied dejectedly. Harry was getting way too close to learning the truth. "They just assumed it was Hermione's."

"What would you have that they'd assume was Hermione's? What was it?"

"Well, it was a, umm ... a toy."

"But neither of you plays with toys anymore. Why would they think it was Hermione's and not Teddy's? He has toys here, for Merlin's sake! I swear, if they'd done that to one of Teddy's toys, I'd . . ."

Ron cut him off, deciding he needed to tell Harry at least part of the truth before things got even more out of hand. "It was a sex toy, Harry. One that blokes don't usually have, and they wanted Hermione not to be able to come so she'd try to seduce me." Ron confessed, hoping Harry would let it go and not ask too many more questions.

"And how would that help?"

Shit! "Well, umm – that's how you counteract the potion."

"You mean by having sex?"

“Well – yeah, sort of."

"What do you mean _sort of_?"

"Well, it's apparently spunk that cancels out the lust potion. It has to be applied, umm ...” Ron searched for any other way to explain it to Harry, but couldn’t think of a thing. “It has to be applied internally, straightfromthesource." He ran his last words together, hoping Harry wouldn’t try to work out what he’d said.

"Oh, well, okay – that makes sense then. So you've just got to get Hermione, or some other bird to have sex with you, right?"

"Not – exactly ..."

"What do you mean, not – oh, OH ..." Harry blushed crimson and felt a little flutter of hope stirring in his belly. "Umm, right then."

"Yeah, right then," Ron said dejectedly, looking for all the world like he'd just lost his best friend, but praying that he hadn't.

Harry stared at Ron a long time before he spoke.

"Okay, well – let's fix it then," he said firmly. "Your room or mine?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Harry, I can't let you do that!" Ron squeaked.

Harry could already feel his arousal growing at the idea that he might finally get what he'd wanted for so long, even though he felt rather bad that Ron really didn't have a choice in the matter. 

"I know you're not gay or anything, Ron, but this is an emergency. You have to let me. I swear I won't tell anyone. If the twins think it was meant for Hermione, there's no reason they ever have to know, and they certainly aren't going to ask her if it worked and risk getting hexed."

"No, Harry, I mean I can't let you do that for me."

"But Ron, you've risked your life for me. You have to let me help you. I want to."

"I know you want to help me, Harry, but ..."

"No, Ron," Harry said softly. Then almost so quietly Ron didn't hear, he added, "I mean I want to."

"Harry, I'm not going to turn you into a pouf just because ..."

Harry shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. He needed to choose his words carefully so that Ron would understand he fancied blokes, without making it sound as if anything was wrong with Ron's sister. 

"Ron, why do you think I stopped dating Ginny? And why do you think I haven't dated anyone since?"

"Because you're The Boy Who Lived, and you have to find someone who wants you for you and not because of that."

"Well, yeah, that too, but mainly it's because the bloke I want is straight, and helping you now may be the only chance I ever get to be with him." Harry said, moving slowly toward Ron.

"But you're strai – wait, the bloke – who ...?" Ron babbled until Harry silenced him with a kiss.

Harry pressed his lips to Ron's, tentatively at first, savoring their warm fullness before slipping his tongue out for a taste. Chocolate and firewhisky, but then Ron's lips parted and all thought of flavour was lost as Harry pushed his way inside, sliding his tongue deliciously against Ron's. Someone moaned, but neither was sure who; perhaps it was both of them, because by the time their lips parted, both were flushed and breathing hard.

"We are going to fix your not so little problem, Ron, and then if you want to forget this whole thing ever happened, I'll Obliviate you."

"You want me?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Yeah, probably since fourth year," Harry confessed. "Although I didn't really admit it to myself until Ginny and I got back together after the war. I, umm – called her 'Ron' once while we were making out. That's one hell of a Bat Bogey hex she's got."

"I do NOT want to think about you making out with my sister," Ron said, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him toward the hall. "But if you really want to do this, let's go because my bollocks are going numb."

Ron lead the way into his room, walking with his legs spread far apart, and closed the door, this time casting both locking and silencing spells. Suddenly he was feeling very awkward again. He was already in his boxers, which were plainly tented, but Harry was still fully dressed.

"Umm ..." he said eloquently, wanting to get Harry naked, but not really knowing how to start.

"I'll just, err ..." Harry started, but then didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Harry, have you ever, umm – been with a bloke before?"

Harry bit his lip and shook his head "no" without meeting Ron's eyes. "You?"

"No, but, well – I do have this toy, so you won't hurt me or anything."

"So what do we ...?" Harry blushed at what he was trying to ask.

"Harry, you don't have to do this," Ron said, wanting to let him off the hook if he was just trying to help, but hoping he wouldn't back out, and not only because it was the only way to solve his current problem. 

"But I want to do it!" Harry blushed again, then plucked up his courage. "Bugger this," he said as he started stripping off his clothes. It wasn't like Ron hadn't seen him naked before. It was just that Ron had never seen him hard before, and bloody hell was he hard.

He took a few steps, closing the distance between himself and Ron, and their erections bumped together. Harry moaned in pleasure, and Ron moaned in pain.

"Fuck, Ron!" Harry swore, backing away so as not to hurt him more. "I want this, really I do, but not with you hurting. We're going to fix this." He reached out a slightly shaking hand and pulled Ron's boxers away from his body and lowered them past his sensitive prick, pushing them down so Ron could step out of them.

Harry looked down and was rather appalled at what he saw. Ron's shaft was tightly swollen and the head was red and leaking slightly. But that wasn't the worst of it. Harry looked lower and saw that Ron's balls were so engorged that the skin was pulled tight and had a faintly bluish tint. He brushed a finger across them as softly as he could and Ron whimpered.

"Damn, Harry – you don't know how long I've wanted you to do that, and now it just hurts like hell!" Ron looked almost as if he was about to be sick, which Harry thought was understandable considering how long he'd been in his present state.

"Okay, look," he began, "I'd really like this to be the most wonderful and memorable experience of our lives, but we have to get this sorted first. We can do it again later to make it memorable. Err, if you want, I mean. Just tell me exactly what I need to do so you can come."

"Well, I guess we fuck," Ron said, blushing Weasley red in spite of all the blood in his body being diverted elsewhere.

"You guess? What exactly did the twins tell you?"

"They didn't exactly _tell_ me anything. They sort of left a note."

"Okay, well, let's see it then. You don't look like we can afford to wait much longer here."

"Idon'twantchataseeit," Ron mumbled.

"What?"

"I don't want you to see it, Harry."

"I won't laugh, I promise."

"It's not that, Harry, it's – well, just – don't get mad."

Harry tried to work out why Ron thought he might get mad, while Ron rummaged in his bottom drawer. He located the hidden toy and glanced at it to be sure the glowing words were still there before handing it sheepishly to Harry.

Harry bit his lip as he took the object, clearly struggling to hide his grin. This would be funny in years to come, but now was not the time to take the mickey. He turned the object in his hands, reading the twins' words, then repeating the final line aloud – _pure semen, applied internally, straight from the source._

"Okay, 'pure' – that means it has to come directly from a bloke and not be diluted or anything, I suppose. 'Applied internally' obviously was intended to mean inside Hermione, but ..."

"Harry, it means I've got to take it up the arse from somebody – umm, from, umm – you."

"Right, well, okay. Umm, lube."

Ron handed him the well-used container and climbed onto the bed as carefully as he could, positioning himself on hands and knees and feeling very exposed. Harry got on the bed behind him, silently cursing the twins, and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on Ron's right hip.

He scooped up a small dollop of lubricant and waited a few seconds for it to warm in his hand before hesitantly spreading it around Ron's hole. Ron whimpered, and Harry wasn't sure if it was a sound of pleasure or pain, but suspected it could have been a bit of both under the circumstances. Personally, he was nervous as hell, and he was sure Ron had to be as well. He'd wanted to be with Ron like this for so long, and now that he was, he couldn't afford to take his time and enjoy the experience because Ron was in trouble. Harry knew that no matter how good he tried to make it, Ron wouldn't be able to enjoy much of anything until he got some relief.

"Okay there, mate?" Harry asked, mostly as a warning that he was about to get a little more invasive, without actually coming out and saying so. Ron's legs were so tense that Harry could see the definition of nearly every muscle.

"M'okay, Harry. Just go ahead. I'll be fine." Harry could almost hear the blush in Ron's voice.

Harry bit his lip to stifle his own moan of pleasure and circled his finger around Ron's puckered entrance, trying to coax him into relaxing. Ron spread his knees a bit farther apart, inviting Harry to continue. Harry put his free hand on Ron's lower back to steady him and made another slow circle with his finger before pushing the tip inward through the tight ring of muscle. Ron made an "mmm" sound and rocked back toward Harry's hand, so Harry pushed in more, quickly sheathing the entire digit inside his friend. Harry knew immediately that his knees would have buckled if he hadn't been on them already, just from how snugly Ron's body hugged his finger. If it felt half that good around his cock, he'd be damn lucky not to pass out. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

Harry cautiously began to withdraw his finger, then push back inward again. He'd done this much to himself, and had even attempted a second finger a few times, but hadn't had much luck because of the awkward reach. He really needed Ron to relax, and let him get another finger inside, so he leaned down and rested his cheek on Ron's hip and started to reach between his legs.

"Oh, fuck – Harry, I can't take it right now," Ron hissed. "You don't know how much I want you to touch me, but I'm just too sensitive."

Harry just nodded his head and began kissing Ron's lower back. He could feel him start to relax, and as Ron pushed back on his finger again, Harry slipped the second one inside. Ron hissed, but whispered "it's good – keep going," so Harry did. He continued the kisses as he pushed his fingers in and out, and he scissored them more and more as Ron relaxed.

Ron's moan startled Harry, who was almost losing himself in the feeling of just being allowed to touch his friend so intimately. 

"It feels so good, Harry, what you're doing, but it makes my cock throb and that hurts bloodly awful, Ron explained. "I think I'm ready."

Harry's heart raced with excitement and fear, but he reached for more lube and coated his own cock thoroughly. It was throbbing too, but with pure anticipation, as he positioned it at Ron's entrance. He thrust his hips forward and the head slid across Ron's hole and up along his cleft.

"Okay," Harry mumbled, "not really as easy as it sounds." He pressed the tip against Ron's hole again and grasped his shaft to hold himself steady. Ron pushed back against him and the head popped through. Both boys moaned rather loudly, then Harry gripped Ron's hips and pulled him gently backward onto his shaft. Harry couldn't help thinking it was a little like Apparating, and that his destination was paradise. Once he was fully inside, he waited, giving Ron time to adjust.

"Move, Harry – please!" Ron cried out.

Harry began to thrust, snapping his hips against Ron's body, and swearing incoherently because Ron's passage surrounding him so tightly was like nothing he'd ever felt. He wanted it to go on forever, and he wanted it to end quickly so that Ron could find some much needed relief.

"God, Ron!" Harry growled. "You feel fucking amazing!"

"Fuck me, Harry. I really, really need you to come!" Ron reached cautiously between his own legs trying not to touch himself at all and stroked a finger across Harry's balls. Harry slammed in hard and spilled himself deep inside Ron, coming for longer than he'd ever done before. 

The very second Harry's semen bathed Ron's passage, Ron's own orgasm tore through his body with such force that it spattered him in the face as he howled in painful relief. He collapsed onto the bed, rolling to his side and drawing his knees up toward his chest because his balls and cock felt like a fire had ripped through them. Harry settled himself on the bed, facing Ron, and asked if he was okay. Ron nodded, and Harry leaned in, licking a bit of Ron's spunk from his chin, then sealing his mouth on Ron's in a tender kiss.

"So, Ron ..." Harry began teasingly, "just why did that toy of yours look so familiar?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I truly hope you've enjoyed my work, and I'd really love to know what you think. If you have a moment to spare, please leave a comment. Compliments are always welcome, but constructive feedback is appreciated as well.


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